Temple
by redthorn
Summary: During the years of war, Ping, a spineless non-bender girl of the North Pole water tribe finds, herself tangled in the lives of our three heroes when she first encounters a badly injured Katara… Either Ping roughens up and gets tough or become another vic
1. Default Chapter

Hello fellow readers! I'm new at this site and ever since avatar had aired I've been eager to write a fic. about it. This story, however, revolves around my original character Ping, or Duckweed as her master likes to call her. The point of this story is for Ping to develop during the series as planned out by me. I will warn you this is also a love fic between Ping and Prince Zuko but that's farther on the story when Ping develops a back bone. Other then that I will try to make this an action pack story full of twists and such…. I guess that covers it. Read, enjoy, and criticize

Chapter One

Ping, with silent footfalls, strolled up the steep steps that slowly led her up to her masters hidden temple. No one was around to spot her in her late night stroll; especially not the oppressive fire benders who had taken an interest in patrolling her village for the past few weeks. It was, to say the least, the first peaceful night Ping had ever witnessed since the coming of the fire nation and to her that was the only rare remedy that relieved her of her stressful days.

A still silence settled between the thick tree branches. The wooden limbs shifted away loose, dried up, leafs that often crunched underneath Ping's cotton slippers. The rigid air caught the young girls breath in a small cloud, and specs of snow dangled slowly down on the cold earth or collected above the large forest canopy. Ping couldn't see beyond the tree tops, but she had figured the sky had a darker shade since she left her house a couple of hours ago.

Ping was a meek girl whose natural warrior spirit vanished between the times of war and strong tides to survive the defeat of the enemy. Like the rest of the villagers, Ping, lacked the ancient art of water bending which was perfectly normal and the safest way of living. The Fire Nation wouldn't have wanted otherwise; as their corrupted system farther bullied what was left of the war; woman, children, the old, and the handicapped. But, right under there nose, after months of hiding and being pushed over the edge, Ping-- along with other brave rebellious villagers-- trained under the rule of one of the most dangerous lethal man around, Master Mao. All they needed now was more practice before their rebellious group strike back.

By the time Ping sauntered to the head of the long staircase, she was greeted by the luminous blue moon dipped in curled clouds. It's silver rays illuminated the exterior of her masters domain-- that happened to have been coated in more snow than any house in her village--. At first glance one would have mistaken it to be an old abandon hut in the middle of nowhere, being that it lacked the impressive features of a true temple; with its long towering roofs that lifted to the sides and half-way reached the sky by its pointy head. The walls weren't even made of marble brick just bamboo wood. That, however, was Mao Zeng Dong's temple that had rotted away after years of standing tall and protective of the water tribe. It was feeble and old much like the owner. Collecting dust and snow along with the smell of dew.

Not to far away seated on the foot of the porch clad in traditional long blue robes, Master Mao Zeng Dong, cradled his beloved cup of sake between bony fingers. The long strands of gray hair were pulled tightly into its usual knot. His white mustache, like the whiskers of a dragon, were long enough to wrap around his large belly; cascaded freely to the end of his dark sash. With one lengthy sip of his sake, he set his cup down on the short wooden table then turned to Ping expectantly.

"What took you, Duckweed?" The old man scolded, his curved nose flatten down his white mustache in a haughty puff of air.

Ping mumbled a quick apology." It was like finding a needle in a haystack, Master, besides the fact that the snow ruined the little plantation we had, it was hard enough to get past the guards without raising any sus--"

" Don't give me excuses", Master Mao cut in sharply," and take it like a man."

A short pause followed in which Ping crossed the snow glazed grass. Her slippers squeaked on the surface of the wooden floorboards of her masters porch until they came to a halt just before the old man. The pouch strapped around her shoulder held any herb she could find at this time of year, which wasn't enough to cure a life threatening ill-ness, much to her dislike. The old man took his time to sip down the warm liquor before speaking in his usual distasteful tone.

"No that's not right you're a woman. They're not fit to do a mans job." Mao added as an after thought.

Ping gritted her teeth swallowing the many comebacks that formed from the top of her head. Instead she muttered another apology and forgiveness.

Even before she was bonded to her master like a dog, she still knew in advance that becoming a pupil to the master of the north pole would have its consequences and she knew she wasn't the only one being harassed every once in a while so she let it slide.

Her facial expression, if you ignored her tightly clenched jaw, was neutral as she faced her master's sager face.

" Now go patch up that girl, I don't want blood stains in my covers."

" Yes Master"

She bowed to her master then trotted inside. Moments passed when Ping stuck her head out from the doorframe. Her face took a more comical look as she gave Master Mao a apologetic smile, which seemed forced with her mouth twisted uneven to the sides.

"Umm master Mao, where's the--

"In the guest room, your guest room, duckweed" The old hermit and master water bender said, without shifting his tedious black eyes to meet her face. "Oh and don't take a lantern with you, there's already one in the room."

"Right"

She disappeared from view. The soft thuds of her footfalls faded away.

"That girl," The old man mumbled. In his agitation he sighed out loud. A habit he recently adopted during his years around his successor, Ping. " To believe that klutz will soon inherit the final technique."

Past short pocket rooms, and the small inner dojo, Ping's steady walk led her to the far end of the hall. The flimsy paper doors to her room gave away a sharp gasp when Ping forced them open. The rays filtered through her small window and inside her simple furnished room: A nightstand with the glass oil lamp prop near the edge, casting away the shadows, a thin mattress opposite to the only window in the room.-- Ping could make out a small lump within the twisted covers and every once in a while see it move just enough to catch a breath of air.-- and among other things her desk that was the closes thing to a study area cornered away from her furniture. Scrolls, books, ink bottles and quills made up the top surface and connected shelf's.

Getting to work Ping walked up to the small lump. She was surprised to see a pretty girl around her age under the blankets. Even if her entire being was coated in mud, sweat, and blood she still had a far more angelic look then Ping could ever have.

Ping skin had a dark uneven tan obtained through hard labor under the glare of the sun. Her hair, a long untamed mass of black wisp twisted into her typical loose bun. Dull brown orbs with slanted lids. She was no beauty, that she could admit. Her thin parched lips and bony body added on to the list of plain below average traits. Ping shook away the negative thoughts. If she kept on her low self esteem would diminish into nothing.

Ping observed the girls cream colored skin that was scared with small gashes. Her long brown hair matted in warm crimson liquid.

'An injury to the head, not good', Ping thought taking out her pouch from her shoulders and tearing open it's leather lid. From within the bag she produced a even smaller paper bag. In it small portion of herbs half dried up but still usable.

'I promise this wont hurt,' Ping struggled to see past the dark shadows that formed over the little light from both the moon and the lantern. She parted the girls tangled hair and started working on the open wound.

A two hour effort was all it took to stitch close the open tissue from her head and any other large gash. The blood had stopped flowing and only traces of it was plastered to her brown hair down along one side of her face. Her blue attire had bloody blotches that stick to her body with tears. But like the open tissues, Ping too, stitched the tears back together; folding them besides the futon and bringing the covers up to her chin. She may have appeared dead but she was far from it. Her breathings were deep and her limbs would twitch. Sometimes her eyes would flutter open in a daze revealing bright blue eyes and an emotion, may be pain Ping figured, but as quickly as they opened they'd close.

"I guess that's it." Ping swatted away the sweat from the top of her dark brow in relief. She could feel the beads of sweet travel down the loose strands of her black hair. The great amount of blood made her weary almost nauseas but the questions that have been building up since she saw the girl in such a bad condition kept her awake. 'Who could've done this? The Fire Nation perhaps? No couldn't be, there would have been burns and all I see is blood.'

Without realizing it the room had gotten darker. Ping turned around towards the window only to witness a moonless sky. It was dipped below the large twisted mountain tops from the far end of the horizon. The star spangled sky was still dark, perhaps even darker now that the face of the moon hid behind some mountain.

"Who…" A soft weak voice question.

Ping looked down on the girl who was tucked under two sheets of blankets. Her blue eyes lingered on the ceiling, bright, and unfocused.

"Hi there", Ping timidly said.

The foreigner, she supposed by the look of the strangers clothes, shifted her eyes slowly towards Ping. A moments silence followed and the tension grew thick. Ping felt uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze.

"Who are you, and where am I". The sentence came out forced, laced in pain but the girl did not appear to wince against it.

"I'm Masuko Ping and your in the outskirts of Kita Village," Ping said in her best reassuring words. She stood up stretching her aching legs. "Now you stay put while I go get a glass of water for you"

"No!" The girl cried out sharply.

It took Ping by surprise that the weak girl could yell out even with a dry throat. Puzzled Ping repeated just that "No? Is something wrong?" Pause. " You shouldn't be moving, your going to outdo yourself."

The brunette girl sat up with much difficulty brushing away Ping's heed.

"No seriously don't do that. Your going to re-open your wounds." Ping said, now crouching down on her legs.

The girl struggled back up when Ping gently pushed her down. Reluctantly and against her better verdict, Ping pinched a pressure point around the girls neck. She didn't fell limp immediately but instead uttering a few scrambled phrases Ping had figured to have meant:" Must find Aang brother." before falling in a dreamless sleep.

'More of them? That cant be good,' Ping thought,' Outsiders are not allowed to venture in the village especially not when a band of fire benders are out there.' Out of the blue her better side felt a warm pride for her master even if it was just a small spark of warmth. He

actually went out of his way to save an outsider, something either stupid or very generous for a person to do, it was his way of proving he had a heart.

Her thoughts were cut short when the sliding doors to her room flew open with a squeak. Ping, surprised, jumped up from her crouching position only to come to face a fellow villager and trainee of Master Mao. He was old. Somewhere near his early 20s- his long red hair slicked to the back in a short ponytail, pale gray eyes excitedly darted from every corner of the room before landing on a confused Ping. She couldn't quite place a name on him. 'Was it Haku?'

"Quick Leiko gonna' fight tha' o'd fart!" Haku, as Ping had dubbed, eagerly said in his thick accent. "It's a show do'n!"

As excited as he was he didn't bother to see Ping's reaction as his heels sharply turned and he madly sprinted back outside.

Ping walked up to the doorframe poking her head out to see an empty hall. Before she could dash to the training area, were she presumed the fight to take place, she turned to her guest and secretly vowed she would help her in any way possible.

What is the final technique?

What happened to Katara?

Where is Aang and Sokka?

Who the hell is LeikoL? And why is he pickin' a fight with Master Mao?

I do think I left it in a cliff hanger. All these questions will soon be answered in my next chapter, but for now review and give me some constructive criticism if you please. Thanks for wasting your time on my first fic.

Next update might be during this weekend or the next. (That's if my fic is worth peoples' time. This fic. May be boring for the time being but I promise the next one will be a lot more exciting) I think that covers it.


	2. CH Two

Hello people, I'm back and very glad to finally have put up my next chapter, I wanna dedicate this to the few reviewers that have motivated me to keep on writing. Thanks girls! I'm sorry for not having to have done this earlier on, I have been stressed with homework lately, projects mostly, my excuses don't matter though. A special thanks to Riddle Light, ( Thanks for the constructive criticism, I'll put it to heart. J I'll make sure to check up on my writing more thoroughly) Patience Halliwell (your questions will be answered in today's chapter! And thanks) Dark Bird (I hope this is soon enough for an update.) and Raito Hana (To answer your question, Look wise, Ping's low on self esteem, and well to her Katara looks a lot better, but everyone has their own good traits she just doesn't know hers.)

Okay on my first chapter I forgot to write the disclaimer, I don't think you people really mind, I mean everyone knows a simple 13 year old can so not own one of nickelodeons famous cartoon series! Either ways: I do not own Avatar: The last air bender, or the characters. Well I'm planning on making a Yu-Yu- Hakusho fic based on Koenma (I don't think they have too many fics on him), as soon as I have at least 4 more chapters going, and I'm free for the summer.

Chapter Two

The metal pointed nose of the warship, under the command of Prince Zuko, cut through the sea's of the Northern Water Tribe towards the only fresh trail left behind by the Avatar. Within the small vessel foot soldiers had busied themselves to run the ship in an organized fashion. The bed chamber of the infamous ex-general, Iroh, who was slumped in a corner tucked under the silky warm sheets of his bed spread, had been filled with loud snores, and beyond the twisted halls that led up to a private, almost forbidden room, the banished prince sat crossed leg in mediation, perched un top of his favorite cushion facing the rich ceramic pottery of the Dragon God that was mounted on a small trunk. He had abandon all hopes of catching up to the avatar for the moment and instead hid himself inside his richly furnished room. He was concealed inside the dark depths of his mind, centered on only finding the one thing that could restore his lost honor, the Avatar.

The small glow of the wax candle, aligned around the Dragon God, danced to life in the beat of their manipulators breathing. That didn't last long, however, the intensity of his meditation was broken by three sharp knocks on his door. With a heavy sigh, his eyes cracked open and he was once again inside the four walls of his dimly lit room. The iron door opened to a large, bulky, foot soldier in a long red tunic layered by their durable armored vest and trousers with hard segmented plates at thigh, knees, and shins, it was supplied by a matching cloth-wrapped helmet that hid his features.

"I believe you have some information on the Avatar." The prince cut in, in a commanding, short clipped, voice that held no room for laughter. He spared himself from meeting the quivering soldier and instead looked intently at the flames that had ,for a moment, seize to dance. No one had the right to venture inside his room, much less someone of low status, although his uncle Iroh was an exception but even he had a reason to go in every once in a while. This gave him a shimmer of hope, that did not reach his facial expression.

"Prince Zuko, pardon for my interruption sir, but our men have found remains that were left behind by a struggle," Came the soldiers equally brief report, he paused to let the information sink in, when his superior did not respond he continued on, "We believe it could belong to the Avatar, and from what we could tell they seem to be heading to Kita Village."

Prince Zuko hastily stood up to face the low rank fire bender as he turned around, "Lead me towards the wreck."

The foot soldier nodded, stiff under his helmet, "Yes Prince Zuko," he turned around then walked off, leading the young prince through the maze like halls and out to the deck where the northern winds had whipped them with a cold breeze. The sun had drifted away to the edge, dipped below the twisted mountain tops. It was cold, not even the thick red robe latched around the banished prince provided a grasp of warmth. Large glaciers loomed over the ship, clouds hovered over their heads bringing in an earlier night, and the vast blue ice spangled sea stretched to the end of the horizon.

"Right there, sir," the foot soldier said, pointing outwards where a frail lump of --what appeared to be wood and left over necessities-- floated above the lapping water.

"Bring them on board."

"Yes, sir."

The soldier shouted orders over his shoulders to the men that were on deck, about four marched up around the rail with a net, pulley, and a long thick rope. It didn't require much work getting everything aboard and in closer inspection Prince Zuko, to his delight, found it to be the avatar's large, half burnt, saddle and a pouch filled with a few broken pottery. Prince Zuko kneeled down, inspecting the burn marks scarred around it's brown leather, they were most likely the marks left behind by a lit up cannon ball from an army of fire nation. His lips thinned into a white scar. 'What if they already captured the Avatar?' That small idea had abolished any hope he had on capturing the avatar, one that he had instantly brushed away, he would just have to obtain the avatar by all means possible even if it meant having to steal from his own.

"Ready the sails! We're going to Kita Village!" Prince Zuko shouted, he turned around disappearing within sight back to his quarters to prepare for his next stop.

Ping could only see, between the gaps of bodies crowded within the inner dojo, her master and another boy nearly a couple of years older then her, Leiko she believed, in a fighting stand. The crowd encircled both great warriors and cheered with so much energy, the raven haired girl was sure her village could hear them a mile away.

Leiko, the heartthrob of the village and impulsive fighter, balanced all his weight on his heels. There was no doubt about it, he looked divine, even more so than ever when he was now at his best. His long blonde hair swayed behind his back, bounded in a lazy ponytail. The depth behind his pale green eyes were shallow but bright. Ping found them easy to read like an open book with bold letters a two year old could decipher. They had a predator look to them now, as they flashed dangerously at Master Mao's calm being. His lean body stiffen a fraction under his light blue training clothes, not out of nerves but excitement. He was good looking and it was no wonder every village girl, including Ping, found themselves attracted to him and his semi-charming personality.

Without realizing it Ping's bewildered eyes ventured towards the, deep, smug green pools of Leiko, who in turn held her gaze in his for a short moment. She couldn't tell if he was looking at her or past her, she could only wish it was the first. Pearl teeth appeared in a cocky smirk as Leiko spoke in a tone all to arrogant and familiar. His eyes now fixed at the old man's deadpan face releasing Ping from his spell binding eyes. "When I beat you you'll have to teach me the final technique and give up your title as Master of the North Pole!"

Ping gawked at the shocking statement the blond rebel spoke so flawlessly and even more shocked at the way the crowd responded so enthusiastically at his empty threat. Their cheers were loud, it made the thick wall quiver and Ping's face to pale. Her features, however, stayed impassive while her inner thoughts screamed scattered phrases and unexplainable questions. May be she didn't expect a revolution to break down so fast, especially a mutiny against her own master. Their own kind for crying out loud!

"If I win" Master Mao said, mouth tight, eyes narrowed." You will be executed before the village and used as a warning sigh to all those traitors within this clan!"

The buzzing of talking and cheering were lost behind the throats of Mao's pupils in an instant. They knew that Master Mao was not one to go back on his word, and the 'traitors', as he emphasized with so much hatred, were the ones rooting for Leiko; who in turn paled to a sheet of paper and stiffen fully under his Master's threat.

'Can he really do that,' Ping thought in panic. Her eyes searched for her Masters, but all his focus was brought on Leiko's ghostly form. Master Mao, still tight face from Ping's position, stretched his arms to warm up. He wasn't completely sober, the red tainted color, smudged on his cheeks proved her point, but he still managed to spread his legs in a low crouch, and levitate his wrinkly hands like wings; in a perfect defensive stance.

Leiko's pose was careless whether from his own fear of failure or his lack of training. It was the position of his feet, Ping mentally pointed out, that were sloppy and unprofessional. All his weight was balanced on the heel's and not on the balls of his feet. Both warriors slowly encircled each other with quick strides. They rotated clockwise three times before clashing in a deadly fight that would decide their destiny. Strong raw power against harnessed strength. Once again the cheers erupted, not so loud as before, but with the same energy as the sea of excited voices spread.

Leiko was not one to wait. He threw a fury of strong punches, each strike as deadly as the last. Although he was not one to strike blindly Mao still managed to dodge each and every strike with the base of his open palm, his feet guided him in a swaggered flow around his opponent. During the round of fatal punches Mao managed to turn the tables around on Leiko with a blow from his bare feet that connected just below Leiko's ribcage. The strike knocked him clean off his feet, sending him to collide on the ground in a sickening bone cracking thud and a strained, bloody, cough.

The crowd grew silent when Leiko's limp body stayed frozen in it's sprawled position flat on his back. A pained look twisted his frame as he faced skyward with closed eyelids. Everyone's gaze fell on his chest, terrified to see no signs of breathing. Ping's eyes glazed over with tears that stayed on the bridge of her lashes, not yet ready to fall down her brown cheeks. Her head snapped towards Mao, who seemed to have purposely avoided her penetrating glare. He turned around on his heels but didn't go far when a weak cough broke the thick tension.

"Look Leiko! He's alive!" A voice broke out above the low chorus of encouraging cheers. Ping turned to Leiko just in time to see him stumble on to his feet, he gave off no impression of being seriously injured, besides the blood that trickled down his chin and the grimace lines forming on his face.

"The match isn't over yet," Leiko said, tenderly clutching his stomach with one hand.-- Mao turned around-- " I still have time to rub your face on the floor old man!"

This time the young apprentice did not run head first. He stood on his post, Ping could just see the energy slowly radiating of his body like heat rays, and with inhuman speed he dashed forward, hand balled in a fist. The summoned energy that gathered around his clenched hand socked Master Mao on his face, successfully causing Mao to roll his head upwards and staggered a few feet away. The fight lead on like that, not once did Mao stop to catch his breath in fear of being knocked out cold by Leiko's fists. He stood on his guard waiting for the opportunity to strike back. Leiko, however, did not leave an opening nor the grasp of concentration on his target to trail off towards the crowd of fans that cheered him on. 'Gentle Punches', Ping thought in awe at the display of power being used by the end of Leiko's fist until it only appeared in a series of flashes.

An advanced technique hard to pull off and even harder to perfect as Leiko had. The punches were gentle not meant for strength to get past his muscles like any ordinary punch, but with the speed gathered and in more than one hit, made it fatal.

By the end of his attack Leiko drew his feet back ready to slam it on the side of Mao's head, however, seeing it coming Mao managed to intercept it an inch short from it's destination by his hand. Using the force that was given off, Mao used Leiko's energy to toss the unexpected apprentice across the dojo and towards the wall in a painful back plant. The mass of bodies parted than gave Leiko there sympathetic looks.

Mao took a deep breath. It wasn't over but now he could fill his lungs with much needed air. The old man looked beaten up and shaken, his bones were ready to collapse under him, tares ran over his training clothes. He had taken a great beating from Leiko and all the signs of a struggle were there. His white long sleeve cotton shirt, he must have changed from his original clothes earlier on in response to Leiko's challenge, had tares in all the vital points in his body, blood had seeped through them and plastered his clothes to his skin like paint. A black eye had formed the instant Leiko had socked him and his lip ripped from one side had swollen up.

Leiko grunted from his sitting position on the floor. He wasn't doing to good either. His mouth had been a fountain of dried blood that ran down the top hem of his clothes, his breathing came short, his physical outlook gave no impression of being seriously hurt but anyone could tell he was bruising inside in more than one way. There was no telling who was the better opponent. Mao had after all managed to almost K.O. Leiko with just one kick, on the other hand Leiko had laid more punches than anyone during the years under his orders.

"What do you plan to achieve in doing this?" Mao leered through gritted teeth. His hand know gingerly touched a deep gash from his side. "Do you wish to be the puppet master of all these mindless traitors?" Leiko did not answer, he was to busy trying to breath in as much air without having to hurt himself to much.

Mao continued on in an even voice. " You are a waist of breath. Of life! You cant even fight for your own freedom even after you have lost all that you ever had! If you cant beat me then you should stay in your leash and obey like the dog that you are! So when I say bark yo--"

Mao was cut of short when Leiko's foot rammed itself on his blood stained shirt. During his rambling he must have dismissed the existent of his so called dog to notice the upcoming attack. The juicy bone cracking noise had echoed off of Lieko's kick, but he did not stop their. His leg shot out, in a final blow, centered in his middle; that had sent him crashing into a wall.

"I will restore my people's freedom without your help!" Leiko fumed in anger. He looked down at Master Mao's crumpled body with so much distaste. If looks could kill Leiko would have already been dancing in Mao's grave. The old man was pathetically curled up in a tight ball a few feet away from his original spot. No one spared him a sympathetic glance like Ping had, but instead cheered with all their might at their new leader.

"Now it's about time you showed me the true power of your Final Solution, and hand your title to me!" Leiko tried to limp up to Master Mao but only took three steps before tumbling under his weight.

Everyone, that instant, rushed up to him. A group of five volunteered to drag him to his room in a rush, the rest scattered away, most likely back to their home village, while the rest stayed put whispering excitedly in what resembled the lingo of chattering birds. They had all ignored Mao's trembling body and only two former students, a buff, sour faced man, and a little girl dragged him, none to gently, away.

Ping did not feel comfortable. It felt so wrong the way that no one assisted their master with the respect of a true apprentice, but seeing as all those people smiled and laughed. May be it was for the best, and they truly did needed a new master, one who wouldn't be as harsh and demanding. Her gaze faltered to the group that had bunched up, talking to fast to be understandable. She couldn't see Bao Er, one of her two friends that had taken in the art of fighting like she did. He must have been in the village himself attending to his family's small inn.

" Oy you germs, the sun's abo't t' come o't, so get!" Someone pointed out.

The group stopped chattering and huddled out of the temple in a hurry, the one who had spoke hung on the doorframe, waiting for Ping to do the same and with little less patients the boy snapped at her in an edgy voice" Hey lass, you too!"

Ping turned to him, it was the same guy who had announced to her the fight,-- Haku " I think I'm gonna stay today."

"Fat chance lil' girl they will be coutin' all of us today." Haku said, his voice had a tone of finality to it. He squinted his eyes as if trying to fish out a cloudy memory before his eyes widen in recognition. "Hey your that girl the umm.." He stumbled with his words at first.

"Umm that Ping girl! Yeah, Leiko needs you, he's not doing so hot right now. No wait yes he is doing hot, he's very hot, I think he caught a fever," he quickly added when Ping, unknowingly, gave him a weird look. "May be you could stay for a little longer and then go back to the village."

"What about Master Mao." Ping ask, hesitantly.

Haku's screwed up his face, one eye squinted in that calculating form, and a finger stroked a small, hardly noticeable, patch of red chin hair in deep thought. "I reckon he would come in handy. After all he still needs to carry his half of the deal," he quietly said.

" Okay here's what we do," his bright eyes turned to Ping, "you take care of those two, and only come back to the village once you see the signal. I'll give you up to two hours tops, while I create a distraction."

Ping nodded shortly, " But what's the signal?"

"You'll see when you hear it", Haku turned around, his walking was rather jumpy and upbeat as he disappeared from a corner. A gesture so happy, not something commonly seen by the people living in such a poor village.

Ping didn't immediately go to Leiko or her Master. She had turned the other hall and inside her guest room, where the girl, she had attended to, was still sound asleep; tucked in warm blankets. The girl hadn't stirred and stayed in that same stiff position under a dreamless slumber. Her clothes were stacked on the corner of Ping's mattress, just where she left them. The brown threaded pouch, containing some sort of liquid inside, that was earlier strapped around the mysterious girl-- a member of a water tribe judging by the color of her clothes and the possibility that the pouch contains water, a handy defensive weapon for a skilled water bender.-- was now perched un top of her clothes. Without wasting any more time, Ping fetched a fresh set of her clothes, replaced the dirty ones with her own, and then collected the remainder of her herbs inside her small pack. Ping had turned around ready to leave but the same dried up voice from earlier on spoke with a softer note to her cords.

"Where are you going?"

This had startled Ping but she calmly turned around, her shocked eyes fell in the regular narrowed-eye- position half hidden by her hair, once she realized who had spoken, and as she met the drowsy face of her, temporary roommate-- she supposed-- her lips broke into a small smile.

"And why does my head hurt?" To prove her point the young water bender stroked her forehead in an attempt to ward off the pain.

"Oh gosh, that might have been my fault." Ping found herself admitting. She walked up to her patient, two luminous berries materialized from the folds of Ping's blue starched linen shirt. "Here take this. It will help you with your headache, oh and don't eat the skin just make sure to drink up the juice then spit everything out." Ping pressed the rare moon kissed fruits on the girl's palm.

Hesitantly, the stranger shoved both berries in her mouth right away and spat them out when the soft splatter pop erupted in her mouth. Her throat made a weird distasteful gurgle noise even as she stuck her tongue out to rid herself of the after taste that lingered. Ping spared her a sympathetic look, but said nothing of it, it didn't matter what she said either ways.

"Thanks,--I think," The girl replied in her best attempt to sound grateful. She picked up the chewed up fruit that landed on the blanket, then looked at Ping curiously. " Who are you again?"

"I'm Masuko Ping of the North water tribe, this is my room, and we're in Kita Village or miles from it."

The young girl mimicked Ping's introduction in a delighted tone, "And I'm Katara of the Southern water tribe."

Katara sat up with the help of her arms. One arm held the blanket up to her chin. "Where's my clothes?" Her voice was laced in panic whilst her eyes scanned the whole room then stopped at the tattered heap of clothes held by her host.

" There not much of clothes, you can use mine on the meantime." Ping offered, "It should be ready once you take a well needed rest."

"No I cant, I must find my brother and Aang--

"Not without a change of clothes and rest." Ping persisted. She felt a little edgy at how strong willed the girl was into finding her comrades. Were they in trouble? And was she preventing them from being killed or something of the sort?

Katara in any case grabbed the clothes in one hand, the other still held the blanket protectively below her chin. "But they need my help, I cant just sleep while they are out there lost." She was starting to sound hysterical or perhaps it was the unsteady panic talk.

Ping kneeled down besides the mattress. "How about you tell me what's going on, and I could try helping you from there on."

A troubled look, Ping could clearly see behind the young girl's pretty blue eyes, had strained Katara's features as if trying to estimate how much she should say or if she should say something at all. Could she trust a complete stranger? After a full minute she gave Ping what must have passed as a trustworthy nod and started to narrate her story. " It all started with the three of us and the journey to the North Pole. You see, Aang and I are unskilled water benders in search for a master that could possibly teach us the basics of water bending, our village couldn't provide us with a master so we decided to travel towards our sister tribe in search for one."

Katara continued on, unaware of Ping's distant look. "Along the way over here we were intercepted by fire benders, who shot at us even before we could reach land." She paused for a second, shuffling in her mind of what had happened next. It had accord to her that her recent memories were a blur and that the attack came to quick. " I guess, during our attack we got separated. I remembered landing hard on snow and then being chased by fire benders."

A long awkward silence pressed on the room, Katara looked at Ping expectantly. When Ping did spoke softly, "Perhaps you can describe your friends to me, I'll have to go to the village soon, and well, who knows along the way I might just stumble upon them."

Katara smiled nervously at Ping, "Sokka, my brother, he's the warrior of our tribe around our age, but he doesn't look the part. He's clad in the same blue clothes as mine that match his eyes, carries a large boomerang on his back and has a mohawk ponytail." As she said this, her arms would flail around to gesture how small his muscles were, where his boomerang would be, and the length of his ponytail. It all appeared funny to Ping and she couldn't help the small giggle that escaped her chapped lips.

"And as for Aang," Katara continued on, with a smile, " He's a little younger, with two toned clothes: yellow and orange, he's bold and has an arrow coming down his head."

Ping's chuckle subsided into a quizzical look, " Wait is he a nomad?", she asked slowly.

Katara stopped to think about it. " Yes a water bending monk," She finally agreed, " Along his travels, he stopped by our village already searching for a master."

"Oh."

Ping stood up, "It was nice chatting with you, I could only wish we had met in different circumstances. I'll be attending to my masters injuries. Don't worry word spreads faster in this village no matter how far you are, if I hear something about them I'll tell you." That said, Ping bowed before walking out.

(A rough draft sort of preview on my next chapter.)

'I finally found him,' Ping thought, as she peered inside the small cellar. She could barely make out the dark shade of a young boy curled up in a corner, between the metal bars. Ping stepped back, a critical look carved on her pale features. The door showed no sign of opening by simple means, the only key that could go through that lock was fire bending and Ping did not have an ounce of water bending in her blood, much less the art of bending fire. A heavy hand dropped to the side of Ping's shoulder.

"He's my catch," came a strong determined voice.

Ping slowly turned around, her heart quivered in her throat, only to face the end of someone's fist, her hand shot out just in time to stop it.

"Get out of my way, or I wont be merciful." A young armor clad boy with the threaten. Ping couldn't see past the dark shadows that hid his face, but she figured he was older than her, with a sharp frown carved on his thin lips. Ping, with her hand still gripped tightly around the other end of his curled fist, pushed him off of her, hard enough to gain some space back. He was a fire bender, and a pretty strong one, she concluded. No one else accompanied him in the short narrow hall and this brought only a small amount of relief to her.

"I cant," Ping softly said. Her voice came out in a small muffled whisper by the helmet wrapped around her face, she wasn't sure if he had heard her, but she was proven wrong when an arc of fire materialized out of his fist, and almost brushed the metal side of her helmet.

"So be it, I will have my hands on the avatar."

Interesting, Yes? No? Anyways for all of you who haven't noticed, which I think you all did, that was Prince Zuko and Ping finally meeting for the first time, so much for first impressions, huh.

On another note, If you guys like reading no matter what genre, and just LOVE full metal alchemist then you should try reading this fanfic, which I thought was magnifique It's called 'BROTHERS' by Oishii, she's a great authoress and her story is just awesome. The type of action packed thriller, I don't think it has a romance, but what the hell it still great! And she updates often! Well I think that's about it. I hope you enjoyed the story.

IMPORTANT NOTE!

I was wondering if any one of you reviewers would mind helping me out with my story a bit, more like to check it out before it's unleashed as a chapter. I'm only asking for one.

REQUIRMENTS:

1)You have to be very critical about my work,

2)Whants to know what'll happen next.

3)And is not afraid to bounce off neat ideas!

REASON WHY?

When I read my material I don't see anything, it doesn't meant anything, it's just words. I can't truly visualize what I write. Not like I do with other stories.I'm not even sure if my character has a personality or not.

Well think about my offer, I don't know how I'll decide, but either ways think about it.


End file.
